Dis And Dat
by BlindJedi
Summary: Well, everyone seems to be going for odd idea files these days. Here's mine. Hopefully, you will laugh.


'Dis and Dat

by

BlindJedi

A-n: Not J.K. Rowling. Using her characters.

NOTE: I have had several one-shots running through my mind lately, and I decided to start posting them. After this, I will be getting ready for the National Novel Writing Month coming up. More information can be found at www dot nanowrimo dot org. After my attempt at the National Novel Writing month, I intend to go back and tweak and continue Force from Long Ago. I had it all written down at one time; however, computer crashes caused me to lose it. I'm afraid that I was unmotivated to retype the story. Now, though, I think I will make some edits and continue on again.

Be aware that in this story, I have never been to England. I have no ideas of restaurant names, street locations, street names, etc.

Story One

Blind Luck

SUMMARY: Ron and Hermione have their first date.

"Ron, will you please stop and listen to me?"

The tearful pleading voice belonged to one Hermione Granger. The person she was addressing was a tall, gangling red-head, whose bright hair was only matched by the splotches of red colouring his cheeks. The red rose in patches from his neck line to the tips of his ears. The girl, the afore-mentioned Hermione Jane (or was it Jean, she never could seem to make up her mind from day to day), clutched at the boy's arm attempting to get him to stop, or at least slow down from his furious pace.

"It's always about you, Hermione, isn't it?" Ron Weasley stopped so suddenly on the sidewalk that Hermione crashed in to him, staggering back a little from the impact. In the heat of their anger, neither one seemed to notice.

Spinning to face her, Ron continued, "I agreed to go with you to the stupid Muggle restaurant. I even agreed to go without robes and dress Muggle, but that wasn't good enough for you, was it? Just because I asked the waiter to try and get me a score on the Chudley Cannons Quidditch game, you go and fly off the handle."

"Ron, the Muggles don't know about Quidditch. I've told you this several times," Hermione told him, still caught somewhere between exasperation and tears of anger. She would have gone on, but Ron interrupted her.

"And then, when I tried to order a fifth plateful of food, you stopped me and told me how expensive this was, even though I offered to pay."

"Ron, you can't pay with Galleons in the Muggle world. How were you going to pay for din--?"

Ron cut Hermione off again. As he went on, Hermione wondered why Ron never could seem to change. This was supposed to be their first date. With Voldemort finally defeated by Harry with the help of the Deathly Hallows, Ron had seemed to finally be maturing after he had returned to aid them in their expedition. Now, though, listening to him ranting on about how much he detested the Muggle world, Hermione was no longer quite as sure.

"... insisted that you would work while you were married instead of staying at home and taking care of children. Why would you want to work?"

Hermione sighed again, wondering how much longer she would be able to keep what remained of her frazzled temper.

"Ron," she said through clenched teeth. "I love to work. I love to learn new things and to solve problems. I will not be someone who wastes their life sitting at home and cleaning house and cooking meals and looking after rug rats."

"Hermione," Ron's tone was plaintive. "I really care about you a lot. I had hoped ..." Here he took a deep breath before continuing, "I had really hoped that we might get married one day. Maybe sometime soon, you'll reconsider and realize that you'll need to be willing to stay at home and take care of our kids. That's the only way that we'll be able to get married."

Hermione's response was quick and without compromise. "Then maybe we won't be getting married, Ronald."

Ron's complexion, which had been cycling back towards normal, quickly returned to a glowing shade of red. A low growl started up in the back of his throat. After all he had done to help out Harry and Hermione with destroying Voldemort, after he had miraculously learned a word of Parseltongue to open the Chamber of Secrets, even though Parseltongue was an ability one had to be born with, Hermione still thought him a slow-witted fool. Had he not also saved Harry Bloody Potter from drowning with his timely and heroic reappearance? Had he not then destroyed one of Voldemort's Horcruxes with the sword of Godric Gryffindor, the greatest of the four founders of Hogwarts? Was he not a hero? She should be delighted that he offered her his affections.

All of these thoughts passed through his mind in no less than ten seconds. By this time his anger had reached a new high for him. Never one to be even tempered under the best of circumstances, his hand was swinging back and then towards Hermione's face before he registered it. Ron was able to regain control of himself just in time, though it was a near thing. Ignoring the girl's widening eyes, he spat the first thing that came to mind.

"You know what, Hermione. To hell with you. Maybe you could date Malfoy and his standards would better suit you."

That was all he could think of to say in the heat of the moment, and even to his own ears, it seemed a foolish thing to say.

Hermione's hand did not retract. The slap came quickly and with full force. In his anger, Ron barely felt it. Without another word, he turned around and started walking again. It never occurred to him to Apparate.

His name was Scott Cruce, and he was visiting England for the first time.So far, he had enjoyed himself immensely. He found it fascinating to try and get around London with its bustling commuters, honking taxis, and generally busy crowds. The only blight on his trip was that England had strenuous laws against bringing animals in to the country. Unfortunately, this included seeing eye dogs. Oh, they could enter the country, but not without a long period of quarantine. So, here Scott was in one of the more populous cities of the world, trying to enjoy a vacation on his own without a sighted companion for the first time in his 24 years of life.

As he exited from the coffee shop on the corner of Charing Cross Road, he was not prepared to be shoved roughly, causing hot coffee to splatter all over his hand, making him hiss through his teeth with the sudden pain.

"Watch it, Muggle," a voice spat at him.

Scott had no idea what a Muggle was, but it didn't sound very good.

"Why don't you look where you're going," he said back, attempting to make his voice as mild as possible. "After all, you supposedly have vision, unlike me. Maybe if you pulled your pre-pubescent head out of your arse and looked around you'd realize that."

With this parting shot, Scott Cruce turned and began to walk off, using his cane in front of him to feel along the sidewalk.

Ron Weasley was too angry to pay attention to what the Muggle replied, especially once he heard the word "pre-pubescent". Fred and George had used to tease him constantly about how his voice sounded like the scraping of fingernails across a chalkboard, and this was a very sensitive matter to the young man. He might have been forced to take this humiliation from his older brothers, but he was not about to take it from some uppity Muggle maggot. He took a furious step forward, meaning to step in front of the bastard and put him in his place, when fate in the form of a blind man's cane decided to interfere.

Ron never looked down as he moved in for the confrontation.

It happened very fast.

Ron stumbled over the end of Scott Cruce's cane and lost his balance. He pinwheeled his arms madly, trying desperately to regain his balance. IT was no use.

He fell sideways, his momentum carrying him halfway off the sidewalk and in to the street.

It was his very bad luck that a tourist bus happened to be rolling merrily through the intersection, the light having just changed to green. IT was doubtful the driver ever even had time to comprehend what was happening as the front left tire of the bus pulverized Ron's head, splitting it like a melon as the driver, white-faced with horror, finally had his reflexes kick in and numbly applied pressure to the brakes, coming to a stop, only faintly aware of the shrieking passengers.

Hermione Granger, mercifully, missed the death of Ronald Bilius Weasley. She had already found an alley and Apparated back to her parents' house, finally giving way to her anguished tears over Ron's harsh words. It would be several weeks before Ron's fate would be known. His funeral would be a lavish affair with many mourners showing up. In the end, it made the funeral of Albus Dumbledore seem to be a small affair. Everyone wanted to be there to comfort the Boy-Who-Lived and his other grieving friend, thinking to score points with the famous duo of survivors.

Scott Cruce, who's sarcastic comment had caused Ron's last fatal moment of inattention, was blissfully unaware that the man who had spilled coffee on him had met his end. When he felt someone trip over his cane, Scott politely said "sorry" and continued on tapping his way down the street. He heard the fateful bus pass by, and for a moment thought he heard someone cutting open a watermelon, but thought nothing of it. He continued on his way back to his rented hotel, singing something softly under his breath.

He enjoyed the rest of his stay in England, not knowing that his cane had contributed to the death of a man, much less a wizard. However, he did know several English girls by the end of his stay there. He had always loved the British accent on a woman, but when he left Britain for his return home, he loved it a lot more. But that's another story, for another time.


End file.
